


Photographs (are memories)

by Mindlessselfindulgence



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Aomineccentric, Fluff, M/M, cute af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6997669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mindlessselfindulgence/pseuds/Mindlessselfindulgence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of random, not chronological, memories from Aomine's perspective on the topic of photographs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographs (are memories)

Aomine remembers when Ryouta first bought a poloroid. He came home excited and antsy, rattling the box like a little kid at Christmas. Cramming in the film, he beamed at his newest possession. And then, of course, it was photograph photograph photograph. First of all, he lay across Aomine with the camera above him. He rocked on Aomine's lap as he waited for it to develop - "you mustn't shake it Daikicchi" - then they had to have yet another. Aomine chuckles at the memory of his own attempt, an interesting picture of the wall. Ryouta then spent the evening writing cute captions and sticking them up on the wall, a couple going in photo albums. 

 

However uncomfortable Aomine always feels visiting Kise at a photo shoot he always felt quietly intrigued. Ryouta's was always so serious; the atmosphere was professional, sombre, faceless but Ryouta's aura was not dissimilar to his aura during a basketball game back in school albeit more subdued. Where in basketball he was ferocious and out of control, in front of the camera he was quietly confident, intimidating and impressively versatile. Friendly to cold in a second. Because of Ryouta's breathtaking looks for some it's hard to look past it but Aomine knew, behind it all, Ryouta had amazing skill. 

 

Aomine grins remembering their fifth anniversary party. They had all gone to a restaurant and booked a private parlour. Kuroko and Momoi had organised the surprise slide show. Aomine had been looking affectionately as Ryouta's head fell back as he laughed his beautiful laugh, one hand still on Aomine's shoulder for support. Now that's the picture of Ryouta Aomine wants. Ryouta stopped and looked around as the lights dimmed and Kagami helped Kuroko bring up the projector and Momoi began her speech. Ryouta had looked inquisitively at Aomine who in response had just shook his head. It had started off with baby pictures - who knows where'd they had gotten those (the highlights being all of Ryouta's costumes - red Indian, doctor, prince, a cauldron - and Aomine looking badass in a miniature car and his fake leather jacket - then came school. Everyone was laughing and Aomine couldn't help looking back at his boyfriend, his face, so attractive, so lively. There was a slight hush as sentiment and perhaps even a touch of regret washed over the Generation of Miracles as the Teiko photographs came on the screen. Ryouta and Aomine bickering - oblivious to the camera - Ryouta all over the uncomfortable-looking Kuroko, Midorima's many lucky items, an intense match of shogi between Midorima and Akashi. Aomine couldn't help feeling bitter about the lack of photographs of them together for the first two years of high school. To compensate Aomine decided to ruffle the blonde's hair who gave a huff which he didn't mean especially as Ryouta then leant his head on Aomine's shoulder. Many more photos followed: Aomine trying to be cool with one arm around Ryouta's shoulders and the other batting away the camera; them moving into their first flat together - there were funny ones like these and other even more precious ones like the picture of the two of them falling asleep on the sofa curled up together while everyone was round watching a film. Aomine, never very articulate had only these words to describe the day, the party, the memories : That had been a great day.

 

Wincing Aomine remembered the day Ryouta.had found his own photo album. Aomine had been lying on his bed eyes closed, Ryouta was round and his parents were away. He didn't know what Ryouta was doing, he was exhausted, they'd just come back from an intense one-on-one session and Aomine was revelling in the moment, close, intimate, loving, with just him, and Ryouta. Together. Aomine groaned when he heard an excited squeal, still resistant to open his eyes. "Ooh, Aominecchi," Ryouta cooed. "You sure do love Mai-chan! This is even a bit creepy though... I'm even a bit jealous."

Cheeks heating up, Aomine rolled on his side to signify the chagrin he would be feeling if he wasn't so bloody calm. He heard Ryouta lug the large pile and felt the bed bounce a bit with the sudden weight. Aomine even mumbled something about being careful, they're ordered. Not that Ryouta's took that very seriously, just sniggered. Aomine's sense of calm wavered when he heard the sharp intake of breath and soft 'Daikicchi..' that made him extremely suspicious. His eyes fluttered open and he looked to see the magazines spread over the bed and Ryouta's eyes wide like a child (not for the first time Aomine wish'd he had a photographic memory or at least a camera). Then his eyes focused on the object of Ryouta's shock and he tensed up. Pictures of Ryouta were everywhere, smiling that million dollar smile that made the fans go wild. Suddenly, Aomine lunged and jumped on as many magazines as he could, covering them up. Ryouta's burst into laughter and smiled affectionately, if not also a bit mischievously. Now this was the smile Aomine loved more than the ones plastered over the magazine covers. 

 

Aomine's mind wanders to one of Ryouta's many midweek work trips - an occupational hazard for a pilot - and Aomine had just got off the phone to said pretty boy. Aomine wandered round the house. He was bored and hungry and lonely (he always missed Ryouta but for some reason he felt particularly needy at this moment but he couldn't admit that). Looking for his comfiest t shirt he was shifting through all the drawers - Ryouta had better not thrown it away - and he came across a small compartment that he hadn't been aware of. Feeling hushed, he opened it as if on the hunt for buried treasure, and found a big black book. With care, he opened it and was extremely surprised to find the first page was, well, him. Underneath it wrote in swirly, professional-looking writing 'Daikicchi snores.' Aomine laughed and turned the next page. The album was full of photographs, some he vaguely remembered and others he didn't. The best ones were the ones caught off guard and Aomine's heart swelled at this intimate and private thing and all it represented. He wondered when, if ever, Ryouta would have shown it to him because he could tell the time span ranged a lot, all after high school though. Aomine hugged the album and stroked the pages and handled it with care. He grabbed his phone in an impromptu action and texted Ryouta: I love you.

 

Aomine remembers the first time he said 'I love you.' It was summer and they had both needed a break from exams - the final year of high school was stressful. They had been going out for four months. They had gone to this big park, on the hill there was an old tree with a swing on it. In companionable silence Ryouta had been swinging on the swing and Aomine had been siting, watching on the floor. It had felt so secluded and special, the two of them away from the world, forgetting everything. Seized by a sudden thought Aomine stood up(slowly so as not to disturb the moment) and got out his phone. Ryouta still hadn't noticed, swinging higher and higher. The sound of the phone camera caused Ryouta to open his eyes; they narrowed as they saw Aomine but abruptly, the blonde began to giggle and then laugh and his head fell backwards as the laughs ripped out of him. With his head lolling backwards his hair blew in the wind, the sunlight that shone through the auburn leaves of the old tree created a golden filter. Ryouta's eyes were slits as he eyed the sky and the clouds. The jet of gold seized Ryouta's and he looked so stunningly, so awe inspiringly, attractive that Aomine's mouthed opened. And out of that open mouth trickled the three words that came to his mind every time he saw the blonde yet he had never spoken aloud (maybe words he had thought for more than four measly months). Ryouta's eyes opened and time seemed to slow down, their gazes locking them in place. Then Ryouta launched out of the swing, unfortunately he underestimated the momentum of the swing and barrelled into his boyfriend sending them both into a heap on the ground. Ryouta didn't even apologise, rather he closed his eyes and lay his head on his boyfriend's chest and whispered 'me too.' 

Aomine stopped, "hey, what's that supposed to mean?. You can't say 'me too!'"

Ryouta's eyes were like crescents as he beamed at Aomine; passionately kissing Aomine he said the words with vehement. I. Love. You. The words Aomine knew he had wanted to say, to hear for so long. 

 

Aomine looks at these photographs, sorting through the endless boxes: a lifetime of memories. He sighs as he caresses the photographs. A quiet knock on the door brings him back to the real world and he turns to see Kuroko in a bespoke black suit standing sombrely at the door, his eyes boring into Aomine. "It's time Aomine-kun." That is all he says. 

Aomine says nothing and bites his lip - he is furious but any kind of retort is pointless, plus he feels so tired that he can't even hold the smaller man's gaze. He looks straight ahead and sees a mirror; he stared back at himself: there are bags under his eyes, he looks worn out, as if he has aged ten years. Aomine's eyes sprint back to the photo of Ryouta on his lap - he will never age. Now the photograph is wet as the tears are falling once again and still the photograph of Ryouta is untouched, unaffected, unperturbed. Aomine smiles a watery smile down at the untroubled young man in the photograph, for this is the real Kise: animated, bright (like the sun), charismatic, the list's endless; not cold, still, limp, silent. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be all fluff but I've been overcome by angst recently it's bleeding into everything.
> 
> Alternative ending:
> 
> Kise walks in. Yo dude what's going on. Those r nice pics.


End file.
